


Sow the Wind

by Birdie (Robin_Knight)



Series: Reap the Whirlwind [2]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Ultimate Spider-Man (Cartoon)
Genre: Culture Shock, Eventual Happy Ending, Goodbyes, M/M, Mpreg, Romance, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-07-27 12:20:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7617895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_Knight/pseuds/Birdie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade made his choice.</p><p>The transformation into a regular human would take time; he would need to adjust to life among people, to a life without Cable and those closest to him, and - most of all - to their newly redefined relationship. Peter was his only link to this world, but Wade held faith that link was strong enough for his survival.</p><p>(Alternate End for "Reap the Whirlwind")</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter Fourteen

## Chapter Fourteen

“Do you think he’s here?”

Sam wrapped his jacket around him. It was a cold day, enough that Peter couldn’t fault him for jumping from foot to foot, but there was something oddly irritating at seeing him constantly moving in an otherwise still and silent cove. He looked as tired Peter felt; the usually dark skin was pale and sallow, while he yawned widely every few minutes with an obnoxious volume, and he rubbed at his eyes with the same tiredness as a child.

The waves that crashed against the ocean were louder today, which indicated a possible storm was on its way, and Peter could feel the winds so strong that his clothes and hair were pulling at him almost painfully, tossed to the side with a massive force. There were ripples even along the cove waters; these were the times when Wade would crawl onto the sands, where they would huddle under a blanket and cling together for warmth, and it all seemed for Peter’s sake, as Wade never seemed too perturbed by the cold. Peter missed him.

“It’s been an hour, Pete,” said Sam.

“I know, but he wasn’t by the bed-and-breakfast.” Peter ran a hand over his face. “We left a note, didn’t we? He should know to come here. Plus, well, m-maybe he hasn’t come to the cove yet, which means he might still come to see Wade, because h-he wouldn’t have seen the note  _here_ , and – and – and – oh God, where is he?”

Peter leaned dangerously close over the incline, where he looked down into the waters below, but – as he looked – he saw nothing through the distortion of the surface. The wind was simply too strong. It was possible that Cable was around somewhere, but Peter was beginning to grow desperate. He felt his heart race and his mouth run dry, while his hands and armpits became clammy with a nervous sweat, and soon he made up his mind to try and get into the water itself, maybe attempt to swim out or dive down, in case Cable was about to see him.

“I’m – I’m going to dive down,” muttered Peter.

There was a loud laugh from Sam. The other man took a rock in his hand and threw it as far as he could past the rocks and into the sea, where it fell without so much as a ripple into the waters, lost in the huge waves and strong tide. Sam soon turned around, as he fished around his pockets for a pair of woollen gloves, and – as he struggled to get them on with numb fingers – he smiled over at Peter with a roll of his eyes. Peter glared at him.

“You’re going to dive? Funny!”

“Why is that so funny?” Peter asked. “I can do it.”

“Dude, you can’t even swim.” Sam shrugged and looked out to sea. “Remember when MJ had that party and her neighbour got out that kiddie pool? You so slipped in it, fell down face first, and then started flailing about in a panic! ‘I’m drowning, save me, someone’! Like, it was four inches of water, Petey! That’s got to be at least thirty feet.”

Peter looked down with a sense of absolute dread. He couldn’t tell whether Sam was exaggerating or being accurate, but just a  _look_  down made it seem like a hundred feet, and suddenly his stomach felt heavy and rolled about inside him, as he looked down with a sense of dizziness that made him feel physically sick. A part of him prayed that swimming as a mermaid was instinctual, as he could foresee himself as useless as Wade when it came to movement beneath the waves, and he wanted to help his partner and not hinder him.

“I don’t care, I’m going in,” said Peter.

He began to undo the buttons on his coat; fingers struggled over each and every one, shaking as he tried to hurry the simple act up, and Sam ran over to him to talk him out of it, promising to dive in Peter’s place and even teach him to swim later on. The offer soon turned into an argument, as both of them fought for the right to dive in the other’s place, until a loud cough came from the rock centre of the cove entrance, and a voice said:

‘ _I would advise against that._ ’

“Cable? Oh, thank God!”

Peter pushed Sam back and ran to the opposite side of the cove, where Cable bobbed over in the water with a sense of ease that came naturally to him, and – as Peter dropped onto the sand opposite him – he began to weep for the first time since Gwen’s death. The guilt and shame rushed back to him, made worse by how he had again let someone else suffer, and history began to repeat itself before him. He barely noticed as Sam sat next to him, doing his coat back up for him in a way that felt almost paternal, and Cable looked at him with pity.

The older man appeared to carry a bag with him. The material was unlike anything Peter could recognise, perhaps made out of something unique beneath the waves, and it was slung over Cable’s shoulder like a schoolchild with a satchel. Peter rubbed at his eyes, as he tried to wipe away the tears to see clearly, but they stung with the sweat that seeped into them and the rough power of the wind. He tried to smile, but it felt broken and weak.

“Do you have the techno-organic material?”

“You’re not taking that, are you?” Sam asked. “It’d totally –”

“Shut up, Sam!” Peter looked to Cable. “Do you?”

Cable swam closer, until his hands were pressed against sand. The wind blasted him with a heavy spray of water, while his hair was tousled back and forth, and yet he maintained a strong sense of dignity that Peter could not imitate in the least. He nodded to Sam to show a level of respect, but his eyes soon turned back to Peter with full attention. Peter drew in a staggered breath. He watched as Cable breathed deep, so his chest extended and he appeared taller and larger than his usual self, and soon Cable said in a deep voice:

“Tony Stark has Wade, doesn’t he?”

“I couldn’t stop him,” admitted Peter. “He gave me a day to get Wade away from here, but that would mean never being with Wade again, so – so I thought . . . I thought by hiding Wade away for just one night, it’d be time for you to get the techno-organic material ready, so we could escape together. T-Tony found him and – and –”

“He’s fine, though,” Sam interrupted. “Well, he’s not ‘fine’ fine, but he’s safe. He’s in a pretty massive tank, replicates the seafloor perfectly, and he’s got more seafood than I’ve ever seen in my life. No idea how he’s going to crack open a lobster with his hands, but –”

“I – I have a plan, Cable!” Peter put his hands together. “Sam is going to rig together a distraction with Ava, so I’ll have time to get into the laboratory, and – well – I’ve been working on some tech of my own, s-so it should work as a great defence without hurting anyone in the process. I just have to drag Wade over to the windows and jump. They overlook the sea, so all we need is for you to wait for us underneath.”

“He can’t swim, so you’ll have to save him from drowning.”

“Could  _you_  swim from that height?”

“I could swim better than you.”

Cable pinched the bridge of his nose. It was a frustrated expression, much like the one a person might wear when dealing with Wade, and he looked between them both with a hard look and narrowed eyes. He pushed himself back with the fins of his tail; it left Peter with a terrifying moment of wondering whether Cable would leave, but instead he dove under the water and re-emerged fresh from the water near to them. The wind didn’t seem to bother Cable in the least, but he did look sympathetic to the discomfort of Sam and Peter.

“There are many flaws with that plan,” said Cable.

There was a long moment of silence, as Peter tried to absorb what was said. The fact was that Cable was correct; there was too much that could go wrong, such as getting caught in the act or only being able to get Wade to the water and not himself, but Peter simply knew that he had to try everything he could. He looked up over the cliffs to Stark Tower in the distance, where he saw those large windows and familiar lights. Peter gave a sad smile.

“It’s the best we have,” he said. “At the very least, Wade will be in the water and free. You can lead him to somewhere safe, back to the village, or he can just sink and crawl to wherever he wants to go, but I want to jump with him, Cable. I want the techno-organic material.”

“Do you realise the risks and how long it will take to work?”

“I don’t care! Just let me take it and I’ll deal with the consequences.”

Sam gave a sigh, as he raised his hands to his mouth. He blew on them with as much warm air as he could muster, while he rocked back and forth on his heels, and – as he looked to Peter – there was an obvious roll to his eyes. Peter opened his mouth to argue, but Sam just raised a hand to silence him, as he gave a cheeky smirk and poked Peter hard on the forehead, in a way that was more childish than anything else, before he said:

“Peter, you should hear him out.”

“Indeed,” said Cable. “It usually takes an hour to work fully; it can be as little as twenty minutes, to as much as six hours, depending on how one reacts to the change and how much area there is to change or grow. If you take it now, you could potentially transform before Wade can be freed. Peter, you will be no good to Wade should you transform too soon.”

Peter reached a hand up to his chest. He could feel his heart race dangerously fast in his chest, as he struggled to breathe properly in the cold weather, and already there was a horrible burn in the back of his throat, as if he had been running open-mouthed in the wind. He felt Sam sit down properly next to him, cross-legged with hands clenching for warmth, and soon Sam’s arm draped over Peter in an oddly comforting manner. It wasn’t like his friend to be sentimental, but Peter appreciated it nonetheless. He held back a tear as Cable said:

“You are also in a state of panic. You will not provide any use to Wade in this state, as your anxiety shall only impair your judgement and your senses. I will suggest to you a compromise.” Cable moved his hand to his bag. “I have brought with me several vials, some that serve the exact purpose you require, but one is somewhat different to the others.”

“Different how?” Peter asked, as he wiped his nose. “What does it do?”

“It is a variation of the techno-organic material, one that is designed to work with mutant DNA to turn one into a human. The transformation will take roughly the same amount of time as it would for you to become a merman, while preserving the majority of Wade’s unique biological differences, such as his gills and reproductive state, but it will allow him the gift of legs and the opportunity to walk. I recommend taking this vial instead.”

Peter took a moment to process the suggestion.

It would be better for Wade to become human, as Peter dreaded the thought of sacrificing his family and friends, but he also knew the change would be extreme. There was no guarantee that Wade would adjust to life on the surface; he had never experienced their foods, their culture, their languages, and he had never experienced their discrimination or violence. Peter raised a hand to his neck, where he rubbed in loose circles in an attempt to dislodge the lump he began to feel, and soon came a spray of light rain that wetted his skin.

The cold became more pronounced, as Peter drew his coat closer about his neck, and desperately began to rub his hands together for some warmth, but – as he heard his heart pulse loudly in his ears – he wondered what would be best for Wade. There was no knowing whether Wade would be okay in human society, but Peter supposed the reverse was also true for himself, and either way they both risked isolation and alienation.

“Wade – Wade wouldn’t want –”

“Tony would not be able to take samples from him, as his DNA would be altered,” said Cable in a patient voice. “If I know Tony Stark, he will release Wade at once and help you both to secure documentation to ‘prove’ his existence as a human. Once Wade has been freed, it is possible that Tony and I can reach a form of truce to further both our research.”

“What do you mean? What research?”

“If Tony has taken Wade, it is likely because he seeks to cure various diseases.” Cable raised a hand to his chin and gave an exhale of breath. “My research has reached the same plateau. I would be more than willing to find a variety of our people to volunteer samples, which I could then trade with Tony for samples of human DNA at set times and at designated places, and this would thus enable us both to do what is needed to be done in a humane manner.”

The suggestion somehow irked Peter, despite how reasonable it sounded, and – in all honesty – Peter would gladly admit the reason it irked him was because of the fact it was so reasonable. There were so many emotions at play, but he couldn’t forget the anger at how unjustly Wade was being treated or the sheer guilt at having allowed it to happen, and now Cable seemed to insinuate the bigger problem was research and not the inhumanity at play. He felt his hands clench into tight fists, as he tried to steer the conversation to what mattered.

“Wade wouldn’t want to be human,” said Peter.

“Peter, allow me to be honest with you.” Cable turned his back against the wind. “I was a human with little in the way of family or familial ties, but still I felt the change so deeply that I found myself affected psychologically. I cannot begin to comprehend what such changes would bring to someone who lives as part of a strong family unit, but I can tell you that – as of this moment – Wade has no such unit in any form.

“He would adapt quickly to becoming human; he is adept at languages, known for being multi-lingual in the languages beneath the sea, and he is skilful regarding talents such as tailoring and crafting in general. If he cannot fight, he can find a career or a hobby in materials and fabrics above that do not exist below. He would also find happiness in being a part of your family unit, in being needed and wanted in turn, as in our world he would have you and only you. It would become fast a co-dependent relationship.”

Cable looked out over to the sea. There was some sorrow in his eyes, almost as if he saw something beyond Peter’s understanding, and his hand rested upon the bag on his hip with a firm and confident touch. The winds were so strong that it was difficult to sit, and Cable appeared to be moving his tail rapidly beneath the surface to fight the wind, as even the slightest lapse in his resistance would mean falling below. He was strong, indeed.

“I will give you both vials,” said Cable.

The statement came so suddenly that it shocked Peter; he felt a rush of relief, as his body felt light and warm even in the face of the storm, and he nearly fell backwards, except for the fact that Sam’s arm kept him in place. He gave a shaky smile, as he wiped away tears that were fast upon him yet again, and looked as Cable removed two small devices from his bag. The first looked very much like an EpiPen, except darker and bulkier, while the other was pure white and so thin that it may easily have been a sheath or package for a needle.

“I’ll only need one, won’t I?”

“No, not if you wish to give Wade a choice in the matter.” Cable gave a slow nod. “The black one needs only for you to press the button upon the top, aimed at a bare patch of skin, preferably close to your hip. It will make you a merman. I advise to get to water, if you choose this route, such as diving from Stark Tower, as I can rescue you and take you to a safe location. The white one is administered the same way, but given to Wade.

“He will know how to use it, do not worry. I simply advise lying to him that the device uses only pressure, as the device designed for him does shoot forth a small needle, which will stop him from using it should he know what it contains. You can change to be like Wade, just as Wade can change to become like you. You have the means.”

Cable handed them to Peter, with the warning not to otherwise press the buttons. They were clearly designed to be used only once, both made of strange materials that Peter could not recall having seen before, and both cold to the touch. He slid them into the pocket of his coat and drew up the zip, where he kept his hand gently hovered over them to reassure himself of their presence, and – as he did – he noticed that Cable watched him with a sad smile. Cable and Wade may have divorced, but it was easy to forget that they were still friends.

“Take both,” said Cable. “Let Wade make the choice.”

“Thank you, Cable. Thank you.”

The older merman gave a brief smile, before he dove deep into the waters. There was barely even a ripple to signify he had even been there, as the winds tore even that away from them, and soon the shadow of him beneath the waves was gone from sight. Peter quickly climbed to his feet, as he wiped away the tears from his cheeks, and forced as bright a smile as he could muster, while he pulled at Sam’s sleeves and dragged him to his feet.

“Let’s go,” said Peter.

 

 


	2. Chapter Fifteen

# Chapter Fifteen

Peter looked across the office.

There was little space to the upper rooms; Bruce’s desk was cluttered in a chaotic way, filled with paperwork and samples and various pieces of equipment, and Peter’s desk – just opposite and flush against the wall – was in hardly a better state. The room was located just above the aquarium, connected by a spiral staircase in the corner, and yet it felt miles away when Peter longed to be with Wade. Still, a photograph caught his attention on Bruce’s desk.

The frame was silver, a gift from Tony one Christmas, and inside was a photograph of the whole scientific research department. Tony stood with an arm against Bruce’s shoulder, leaning on him with a childlike playfulness, while Bruce shot him the ‘look’ that told him to be serious for just one moment, and Peter was bent over laughing just to their side, from some joke or other that Tony told. There were a few unfamiliar faces, as well as a few friends, and Peter felt a stab of guilt at leaving them all behind.

‘ _Are you okay up there, Peter_?’

Peter gave a start, as he adjusted his sleeve and ran to the door. He wrenched his laboratory coat from the coat-hook, which he pulled on for the first time in a long time, and realised that he spent longer lately with Wade than he had in the laboratory itself. There was a moment of panic, as he thought of Wade seeing him dressed almost like a doctor, especially when he needed to get them both out of the window and to safety, but if he could pretend – just long enough – to want to collect the samples himself, so Wade could be comfortable –

“I’m coming! Just a moment!”

Peter ran down the stairs, jumping the last six to land with a bang at the bottom, and Bruce – with a visible wince – sent him a dark look of frustration. They usually worked well together, with Peter collecting samples from wherever sent and Bruce analysing them, before they would work on the technology together or with Tony, but Peter would readily admit to a few bad work habits and jumping down and over objects would be one of them.

The aquarium was the first thing Peter saw when he landed. He couldn’t see Wade at all in this section of the room, which was a worry at first, but his priority needed to be setting up their potential escape to make it as easy as possible. There was a roar against the balcony doors; the ocean outside raged on, while the wind and rain lashed against the windows, and Peter knew that they needed to be open should Wade want to leave. He unlocked them and opened one just a crack, and relished in how the breeze somewhat calmed his nerves.

Bruce appeared under the tunnel of the aquarium, where he signalled Peter over to the other side of the room with a welcoming gesture. It took a minute for Peter to run over; he looked around for Wade, as he moved into the laboratory section of the H-shaped aquarium, and spotted his partner partially hidden by a large rockery. It looked like Wade was enjoying some seaweed, a sight that made Peter smile warmly. Bruce gave a loud cough.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Peter?”

Peter jumped out of his thoughts and looked briefly to Bruce. The older man was clearly nervous, unsure whether Peter would be able to stand taking samples from his lover, but Peter smiled as confidently as he could manage back at him. It was almost impossible to take his eyes away from Wade, who was watching him with an extremely sceptical expression, and it broke Peter’s heart to see him looking so scared. Every instinct told him to go to the glass and talk to his partner, to maybe get into the waters with him, but he fought the urge.

“It’s better this way,” said Peter.

“Well, it would be difficult to humanely sedate him,” admitted Bruce. “I – ah – just thought maybe you wouldn’t want to . . . you know . . . get involved. We just need one blood sample today, that’s it, after that he is free to do exactly as he wants. I promise.”

“He – he hates needles and doctors, Bruce, but I can try to calm him down.”

“Are you  _sure_  you can do this? There’s no shame, if you can’t.”

Wade pulled himself closer to the glass, where he looked between the two men. There was a needle in Bruce’s hand, which was clearly on display and intimidated even Peter, and it was difficult to miss the fear that Wade expressed on sight of the medical equipment. Those brown eyes were wide and dilated, while his hands shook and so too did his head, and he paled so considerably that Peter felt a stab of absolute panic, as he feared Wade would work himself up into an anxiety attack. He struggled to remember Wade’s language.

Peter signed simply: ‘trust me, we escape, promise’.

It was difficult to express everything through his eyes; he needed for Wade to understand that everything would be okay, but the merman was clearly distressed and confused, enough that he fidgeted wildly and began to scratch against himself. Peter raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, before he looked to Bruce and rubbed nervously at the back of his neck. He needed access to Wade alone, just long enough to tell him the options, and so he said quietly:

“Can Wade and I have a few minutes first?”

“Hmm? Oh, of course.” Bruce looked away with a nervous smile. “I – er – I’ll just – I’ll go head to Tony’s rooms for a while. There’s a stepladder just over there, until we can get something better set up, and the controls on the wall are for the water, just in case you need to drain the tank. Get J.A.R.V.I.S. to call me, if there’s an emergency.”

“Thanks, Bruce. I just want him to know that I still love him dearly; I’m only doing this because there’s nothing I can do to get him out of here, so I just want to make the best of a bad situation. I want to be the one to treat him and take samples.”

“No problem. Back in five?” Bruce asked.

“Make it ten,” said Peter.

Bruce clapped a hand on Peter’s shoulder, before he walked over to his desk. He moved with a slight slouch, as if he were carrying the weight of the world, and his workspace – opposite the section where Wade lounged – was currently blocked off for the merman. The waters had been drained from the tunnel and the entire line of wall, as if they didn’t want Wade going anywhere near the computers in any way or form, and Peter wondered what Wade had done to convince them to temporarily limit his movements to just the tanks along the far wall.

He watched as Bruce placed his needles on the desk, before he cricked his neck and made his way over to the door, and – as he turned to leave – he gave Peter a nervous smile and waved in a way that made him seem so much younger than his years. It was like a child resided in the body of an adult, something so unsure and so fragile, and Peter felt almost guilt for deceiving him and manipulating him into leaving. The door closed behind Bruce with a click.

Peter ran to the stepladder.

There was an intense sensation of panic, as he shed his laboratory coat and dropped it to the floor, and he fumbled with the stepladder in a way that nearly made him drop it, so that only his fast reflexes and immense strength saved him from creating a commotion. He made a mental note to hand in his resignation, while he dragged the ladder over to the tank, where he propped it up just in front of where Wade sat and struggled as he ran to the top.

He desperately signalled for Wade to rise; it took the merman a few long moments, as he struggled to find purchase on the smooth glass and his shredded fins gave no help, and it took a good few minutes for him to reach the rim. Wade heaved a loud inhale of breath, exhausted from even the small rise to Peter, and clutched at the rim in a manner that turned his knuckles white and made his muscles bulge. It took all of Peter’s strength not to pull him over and drag him to the balcony, where they could jump to freedom and be free from everything.

“I – I saw Cable,” whispered Peter.

“Yeah? Well, I saw Tony,” snapped Wade. “I dropped a big deuce on his head, too. The bastard blocked off the tunnel and that side of the aquarium, but it ain’t like I got a bad throw when backed into a corner. He’s going to have to put a lid on this thing, if –”

“Wade, just – just shut up, okay? Please, just shut up.”

“You said to trust you . . . you’re just like them.”

Wade made to sink back to the bottom. There was a stab of pain in Peter’s head, as he felt an adrenaline rush and a strange sense of ‘danger’, and – with quick reflexes – he shot out his hand and grabbed Wade by his wrist, which kept him firmly in place. He felt tears rise in his eyes, while panic began to desperately sink in, and his heart raced so quickly that he felt his might faint at any moment. The worst part was that he had yelled at Wade.

The look on the other man’s face was heart breaking, but also frightening in itself. Wade looked furious, while his muscles strained under the pressure he held them, and he seemed almost on the verge of pulling Peter into the water, perhaps to teach him a lesson, but he also knew how much Peter feared the water and seemed to hold himself back. It wouldn’t be long before Wade feared the worst, and that would make him both unpredictable and dangerous, but – more than that – he didn’t deserve to be afraid. He deserved to be happy.

“He – he – he – he gave me s-something,” said Peter.

Peter let go of Wade’s arm. He was beginning to shake, enough that he could barely get his hands to his pocket to undo the buttons, and Wade – despite his fears and doubts – looked genuinely concerned on Peter’s behalf. The rain lashed at the windows outside, so much it made it difficult to hear clearly inside the laboratory, and Peter began to shiver all over with a nervousness that he could barely contain. He reached inside his pocket, where he removed the vials recently placed in there from his coat, and saw Wade’s eyes widen in surprise.

“He – he said t-that you’d know what they are?”

“Yeah, I know what they are,” muttered Wade. “The black one’s t’ make you a merman; I saw Cable put one together once, never thought I’d see it again. The white one’ll make a merman into a human . . . it squirts a gel onto the skin, although he reckons it stings a bit.”

“O-Okay, g-good. I’m – I’m going to give you the white vial and keep the black, because this has to be your choice, Wade . . . this is your choice. _I swear I will follow you no matter what_. If you take the white vial, no one will be able to hurt you or take samples from you.” Peter gave as warm a smile as he could muster. “We’ll – we’ll get you documentation, while you can come to America to live with me, and we’ll start a new life on land.”

Peter reached out and forced the white vial into Wade’s hand. The merman struggled to take it, as it required letting go of the ledge with one hand, and he was forced to rearrange himself and attempt to balance with no real grip upon the glass. Wade eventually managed to hold the vial and keep himself in place, but he simply looked down at the piece of technology with a wide-eyed wonder and began to trill from the back of his throat. His closed mouth muted the sound, but he seemed to be talking to himself in his native tongue.

“If you want to stay a merman, that’s fine, too,” said Peter. “You just give that back to me; I’ll get Sam to cause a distraction, so that we can make it to the balcony and jump, and Cable will take us somewhere to administer the techno-organic material. If we get caught, I’ll still have my vial to use . . . I’ll be able to stay with you, while Bruce can take samples from me and not you, and we can be freed together and live together under the waves.”

“I’d get to be human?” Wade looked down to the vial in his hands. “I got to admit, the cake Cable brought me was the best ever! You never brought me cake, but that’s okay because you were super nice and brought me hugs and kisses instead! Do you want to be a merman? Like, you got family here, right? Do you want to be like me . . . away from them?”

“Wade, I want nothing except to be with you. This is your choice. I promised I’d follow you no matter what, so if you want to become human then I’ll help you adjust, but – if you want to be a merman – I’m happy to be a merman, too. We don’t have time to dally, though.”

“So when do I choose? You sure you ain’t got a preference?”

“Now, Wade, we don’t – _Bruce, you’re back_!”

There was a soft click from the door.

Peter spun around, as he slid his black vial back into his pocket, and forced the bravest smile that he could muster, while Bruce walked in with a hand massaging his shoulder, as if he had pulled or strained it in some way. The older man headed straight to his desk, while Wade dropped back into the water and sank to the aquarium floor, and Peter caught him curling up against the rock with the vial in his hand. He hadn’t handed it back to Peter.

It felt like a sign that Wade had made his choice, but Peter didn’t want to get his hopes up, not when he could still be forced to give up everything for Wade’s sake. Peter quickly climbed down the stepladder, all while casting glances in his partner’s direction and tried to decipher the strange expression upon his face, but Wade simply held the vial at his side and looked to it with something akin to confusion and wonder. The gills on his neck moved beautiful to an unseen rhythm, until Bruce broke the silence to ask:

“Did you finish your talk?”

“Y-Yeah, we did,” said Peter, as he looked to Bruce. “How is Tony?”

“Tony is more worried about you than anything,” replied Bruce. “He – ah – doesn’t think you’ll be emotionally strong enough to work with Wade, but he wants you to be as involved as possible, especially when it’d be cruel to keep you – Peter? What’s Wade doing?”

Peter dreaded to turn around. He looked back to Wade, wondering what the merman could have done in the span of a few seconds, only to see that Wade was holding the vial in one hand and using the other to flip Bruce off in a childish manner. It was a more petulant gesture than an aggressive one, as he was smirking while he acted out, and waving the vial almost like he was taunting Bruce. Peter covered his mouth with his hand to hide his laughter.

There was a loud scraping noise, as Bruce pushed back his chair and stood upright. He bounded over to Peter, afraid of what Wade held and whether it could hurt him, and that fear was clear upon his now white face. Wade wasted no time in acting; he stabbed the vial against his hip and pressed the button with enough force to inject the substance. There was a loud cry from Wade. He dropped the vial quickly, while a few droplets of blood entered the water, and he clearly realised there was a needle involved, as he looked betrayed by the fact.

“He’s taken the techno-organic material,” said Peter.

It took a second for the realisation to sink into his mind. Peter eventually shook himself from his daze and ran back up the stepladder, until he reached the top and frantically gestured for Wade to come back to the surface. The merman looked between Bruce and Peter with a raised eyebrow, unable to tell whether such an action would be safe or not, but – as he looked to Peter’s face – he clearly decided it would be okay and began to rise upward.

“What does that even mean?” Bruce asked.

“I – I – I may have taken a vial of techno-organic material from Cable,” said Peter. “It’ll make Wade human, but it could take a few hours to work fully. We need to get him out of there, Bruce. It’s not as though we can help him in the bottom of a tank.”

Bruce ran his hands over his face and began to pace. Peter ignored him to help lift Wade upright, until the merman’s arms were around his neck and he was able to lift him bridal style, and Wade – with a soft laugh – splashed him playfully and nuzzled his neck. He took his time climbing down the steps; Bruce rushed to him and placed a hand on his back to help balance him, as Peter jumped down the final step and held Wade impossibly close to him.

“Peter, we have no idea how the material will work.”

“He’ll be fine, Bruce, I promise,” said Peter.

Wade brightly smiled in his arms.

 


	3. Chapter Sixteen

# Chapter Sixteen

Wade gave a beautiful laugh.

He lay on the floor before the aquarium; there was no fear or doubt in his expression, as he seemed so lost in wonder and curiosity, and he smiled in a way that made him look childlike beyond comprehension. They had struggled to clothe him. The idea of covering his body was alien to Wade, while explaining the concept of ‘modesty’ was pretty futile, and it took all of their combined efforts to get him to simply don a pair of sweatpants.

Bruce had reluctantly given up a pair of purple pants for Wade to wear, taken from his locker where he always kept a change of clothes, and – being the only one who disliked form-fitting and tight clothing – they had enough stretch to accommodate the ex-merman well. They hung low on Wade’s hips, enough to almost be indecent, but they covered his metal legs and organic private area perfectly, exposing only bare feet at the far bottom. There was something a little disconcerting about metallic limbs, but Wade didn’t seem to mind in the least.

“Looks like your boyfriend is enjoying himself,” muttered Tony.

The older man sat at Bruce’s desk and massaged his temples. It was clear he was exhausted; the past six hours were filled with a long transformation, requiring constant attention from both Bruce and Peter, and Tony had felt helpless that entire time. He had mostly taken to passing messages to Ava and Cable, even going so far as to walk down to the cove, and tried to engineer a means for oral pain-relief, when it looked like Wade may be suffering from the split to his tail into human legs. It was amazing that he was still awake.

There were visible bags under Tony’s eyes, while his t-shirt hung off him and his loose trousers were creased from bed, and – Peter soon realised – Wade’s transformation had woken him from the first sleep he had in days. Bruce perched on the edge of the desk, less than a few inches from his closest companion, while he pushed at his glasses nervously, and occasionally looked to the clock that showed it was getting far too late to be up.

“Can you blame him?” Peter asked.

“I still want to do an examination,” interrupted Bruce. “The techno-organic material has worked wonders in humans, restoring limbs long thought lost, but we have no idea how it works crossing one species into another. I want to be sure he’s still healthy.”

“You want to be sure _he’s_ healthy?” Tony asked. “How about asking whether Jane will be healthy? How about asking whether people with cancer or various diseases will be healthy? I know! _I get it_! It’s wrong to take a person without their consent, yada-yada, but it’s not as though we were going to cause him any pain, right? We could have helped _millions_ of people to live! Oh, sure, look at me like _I’m_ the bad guy, but without those samples . . .”

“Did anyone ever tell you about the road to hell?” Bruce pulled off his glasses, as he cleaned them with the sleeve of his lab coat. “Tony, we can’t focus on what _could_ have been, but only on what’s right in front of us, and – right now – that’s a man whose DNA has been irrevocably altered. We need to acclimatise him to what it means to be human.”

They looked over to Wade again.

The laboratory was a lot darker in the evening; the sky outside was black as night, while the lights inside were artificial and harsh, and the aquarium was drained to the point that the glass now seemed to cast strange patterns about the walls, each one distorted and strange. They were all tired from hours spent tending to Wade, who grew bored with being kept in one place and in large discomfort from the physical changes, and yet somehow Wade appeared wide awake and showed no signs of wanting to sleep any time soon.

He lay strangely on the foldout mattress, set up by Tony earlier in the day for Wade, and continuously kicked out in various ways, as if testing his strength and limits. The ability to replace limbs was common enough that Wade – along with his scarring – could easily pass as a human victim of an accident, but they would need to first teach him about the human world and find him some form of documentation. In the meantime, Wade seemed sincerely happy.

“Cable did say you could trade samples,” said Peter.

“That’s true,” replied Bruce, as he replaced his glasses. “It requires – ah – a fair bit of trust, however, but I suppose that works likewise with Cable and our samples. I – I don’t know, it’s getting late and none of us will be of any use so tired . . . why don’t we get some sleep? We can spend a few days making sure Wade is okay, then arrange a truce with Cable.”

“Jane doesn’t _have_ a few days.” Tony brought his hands to his face, as he leaned upon the desk with his elbows and looked on the verge of tears. He said quietly: “Every second counts with something like this . . . every _damned_ second. What do we do now?”

“We do what we always do: get back on our feet and move forward.”

“Yeah, well, I need a drink. Did you keep at least a -?”

‘ _Petey! Petey! I can spread them! See?_ ’

Peter looked over and saw Wade. The smile on his face took away from the indecency of things, but the way he spread his legs was still embarrassing to say the least. He hooked his hands underneath his knees and brought them high almost to his shoulders, and there was a degree of flexibility that was almost enviable, especially when added to how the material of his bottoms clung to his new buttocks in a way that truly accentuated them. There was a slight throat clearing from Bruce, when Wade attempted to put his legs behind his head.

“Oh God,” muttered Peter.

He ran straight over to Wade, as he ignored the laugh from Tony. It sounded almost playful, like the times when they would share a joke or laugh at something innocent, and he could hear the way that Bruce elbowed his friend hard in the side. Peter dropped down beside Wade, as he gently pulled his legs down and held them for just long enough that Wade seemed to get the idea that they needed to stay ‘down’, as he laughed lightly at Peter.

They shared in a moment together, until Wade decided that there were better things to do with his time than to lie quietly, and – with a quick and strong gesture – he pulled up his legs to wrap them tightly around Peter’s waist, where he flipped them over. He now sat on top of Peter, legs astride him, and placed his hands down on Peter’s chest with a huge grin that made it clear he was aware that he was a crossing a line. There was just so much innocence about his smile that it made it impossible to chastise him. Peter gave a sigh and said:

“O-Okay, you – you can’t – er – ‘spread’ them.”

“Yeah, I can! Look, I can even make ‘em –”

“W-What I – what I mean is that humans _don’t_ spread them,” explained Peter. “It’s – er – it’s sort of a sexual thing, especially when you refer to it as ‘spreading’. I’m – I’m _really_ thrilled you can do it, though, and I’m so happy you’re happy, too, but . . . why don’t you show me when we’re in private, okay? It can be our thing . . . something only I see.”

“Do you got a mirror in your room?” Wade looked down and poked at his legs. “They feel weird, like I got two tails covered in thick skin or something! I want to see how they look, but then I want to run . . . and walk . . . oh, and dance and jump and cycle and –!”

“We can do all of that, I promise.” Peter smiled and reached up to touch Wade’s cheek. “We’re all pretty exhausted right now, though. If you want, I can take you into my rooms and teach you how to walk . . . we really do need to sleep, after that. That means you, too. I know you’re excited, but you’ve been awake for nearly twenty-four hours, and the transformation has likely used up a lot of energy, so you need to rest, too.”

“I don’t know, Petey. I don’t want to sleep.”

There was a strange look about Wade. He narrowed his eyes and looked over to Bruce and Tony, who both slouched about the desk, talking quietly under their breath, and he seemed to give a minute flinch whenever one made a sudden or unexpected movement. Peter soon understood what was the issue: fear. The way Wade paled said it all, and Peter moved both hands to grip his partner’s face, which forced him to make eye contact with him and him alone. Peter tried not to get teary-eyed at Wade’s pain, as he gave a bright smile.

“The door locks,” said Peter.

“It’s safe to sleep?”

“I know you don’t believe it, but Tony isn’t like Francis.” Peter pulled Wade down to give a chaste kiss to his forehead. “He wouldn’t do anything to you while you slept, but – if it bothers you that much – we can lock the bedroom door. I’d be asleep right next to you; I’ll hold you close, so if you so much as move then I’ll wake up, and I won’t let anyone hurt you. If it’s a problem still, you just tell me and I’ll take you someplace else.”

“Do we have to sleep in a bed?” Wade gave a pout. “I’d rather sleep in the bathtub. I still got gills, ain’t I? You don’t have to worry about me drowning or anything. Oh, I want to see how a shower works, too! You said that it makes rain whenever you want, right? I want to sleep in the rain! Just . . . make sure that door locks, too? Don’t leave me?”

“Wade, I swear that I’ll never willingly leave you again. Once you’re up and used to things here, we can try to get you on a plane . . . I can introduce you to Aunt May, because she’ll absolutely love you, and we can start on settling down and making a home for ourselves.”

“Can we get cake? I could make cake! You have seaweed, right?”

“Er, why don’t _I_ focus on the baking? You just eat.”

Wade beamed brightly at the suggestion. It was enough to make Peter laugh, as he pulled the ex-merman down against him. He kissed Wade deeply, tasting a hint of iron from where Wade must have bit his cheeks or tongue during the worst of the pain, and yet it somehow reminded him that this was the same man throughout everything. It didn’t matter whether he had a tail or legs, whether he was on land or in the sea, because he was simply _Wade_.

They kissed for a long while, as the rain continued its torrential downpour outside, and soon time seemed to stand still. It took a cough from Bruce to break them apart. Peter jumped with a start, knocking his forehead against Wade’s, and he held back a curse as he rubbed at the now red skin and sat upright with Wade’s legs wrapped tightly around his waist. It was difficult to move, especially as Wade’s arms were locked around his shoulders and a certain someone’s head was nuzzled against his neck, but – somehow – he managed to stand.

He felt lucky to have such strength; he was able to support Wade’s weight, which – for someone that was close to six foot and pure muscle – was surprisingly heavier than even expected, and Peter began to feel a strain in his arms. He held Wade by the backs of his thighs, and turned to face Tony and Bruce like he was carrying the world’s biggest baby, which caused him to make a mental note to discuss with Wade that being carried wasn’t something normal.

“Maybe we ought to leave you guys,” said Bruce.

There was a smile on Bruce’s face that betrayed his amusement. He tried to hide it by rubbing his mouth with his hand, while his other hid itself away in his pocket, and he appeared to avoid looking at Peter in the eye, as if he thought it might give something away. Tony simply spun himself around in his chair, before he stopped himself and stood up next to Bruce with a roll of his eyes. They were an odd pair. It was also difficult to think how Tony survived before he met Bruce, as the scientist seemed to balance the engineer perfectly well.

“It’s time we got some sleep anyway,” Bruce continued.

“You’re kidding, right?” Tony asked. “Do you have any idea how much we’ve been set back? I need to arrange a trade of samples and information with Cable, although – if Wade agrees – we could use a sample of his DNA to see how the –”

“Tony, you need to go to bed. Don’t make me angry . . .”

“Why? Wouldn’t I like you when you’re angry?”

“Okay, that’s it. We’re leaving.”

Bruce placed a hand lightly on Tony’s back, as he guided him to the door. There was a serious of muttered complaints from Tony; he was quick to remind them how he could master a subject within an evening, spent nights working on a project to success, and how no one else in the world could come close to his arc reactor. The boasts did little to relieve Bruce, who looked on the verge of passing out from exhaustion, as he ignored all of Tony’s rants.

It was almost a relief when the door closed behind them. Bruce was too tired to even remember a ‘goodnight’, which was unusual for him to say the least, and Peter could still hear muttered arguments all the way along their walk to the staircase. Peter smiled and shook his head, as he walked – with great difficult, Wade still in his arms – over to where Tony had sat on the office chair. He gently dropped Wade into it, before he collapsed against the desk where Bruce had been leaning, and tried to find enough energy to process events.

“Think those two are fucking?” Wade randomly asked.

Peter spluttered and began to choke on air. He struggled to breathe, as he looked to Wade, and saw his partner using his strong arms to swing the chair in quick circles, enough to make him dizzy and laugh like a child at the new sensations. It was hard to answer Wade, especially when he felt his face flush bright red and his heart race in his chest, and the sheer embarrassment about such a question was enough to make him feel lost.

“I – I don’t – what – w-w-what makes you ask that?”

“I know his girlfriend left him,” said Wade. “No one thinks mermen know shit, because we just sit in a tank and don’t talk much, but we listen and we pay attention. They weren’t dating long, but his tech attacked her or something and it was the last straw.”

“J-Just because two people break up -!” Peter shook his head. “Tony is a lady’s man. He was the biggest womaniser I’ve ever met; heck, he even _defines_ himself that way, calls himself a ‘playboy’ and everything. He barely had anything to do with Bruce either until the past few years . . . Bruce is more a scientist, Tony more an engineer . . . it’s only recently they started working on an A.I. that they came together. Plus, they’re in their forties.”

“Cable’s in his fifties, but he still managed to get laid. I think he’s on a celibacy kick right now, though, because he’s adopted this baby and wants to be a good father. He named her ‘Hope’! I like that name! Plus, how much do you want to bet that Stark’s over-compensating? He dates women so no one knows the truth. Basic psychology, that.”

“So he’s – what – secretly gay? He’s not dating Bruce, trust me.”

“He could be secretly – what – _bisexual_ , too.”

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. He could tell that Wade was mocking him, but he was far too tired to be patient for these kinds of speculations, especially when it felt beyond rude to talk about his boss and friend behind his back. Wade continued to spin on his chair, until he worked out what the levers did and soon yelped in surprise, and soon he was pumping the chair to go higher or lower, backwards or forwards, and spinning in between those experiments when the urge struck him. It was enough to give Peter an idea.

“Why don’t I wheel you into the bedroom,” he suggested.

Wade gave a bright smile and gave a loud cheer. It was enough to make Peter laugh, as he shook his head and reached out to turn Wade around. He had played a few games like this with Tony in the past, usually on their breaks, where they would set up a ‘race course’ in Tony’s private laboratory and race one another to the end using only the office chairs. It seemed a game right in Wade’s alley, even if they had no one to compete against.

“Can we keep the chair afterward?” Wade asked.

“It’d annoy Tony no end,” admitted Peter.

“All the more reason, right?”

Peter gave a loud laugh.

“Sure,” he conceded.


	4. Chapter Seventeen

# Chapter Seventeen

“Are you honestly okay, Wade?”

Peter smiled, as he watched Wade upon the sofa. The older man stretched out on his back, as if he hadn’t a care in the world, while his legs kicked up and down in scissor-like movements, accompanied with soft and innocent laughter. He still wore the same purple pants from the day before, only – this time – he had donned what looked like a fashionable white tunic over his top half, and Peter severely regretted having fetched Wade a sewing kit when asked . . .

He ran a hand over his face and smiled. They had slept most of the night and morning, waking only mid-afternoon, and – so far – it seemed that they were the only ones awake, as the communal living space was empty. It made sense when most employees lived off-site, but Peter half-expected to see at least Ava or Tony lurking about the breakfast bar. The white room felt so depressing without people to occupy the space, even if the television set brought things to life with some children’s cartoons, and he feared that Wade would get bored.

“Do you even know what you’re watching?”

“Nope!” Wade continued to kick pretty high. “I just know there’s two pretty phallic yellow things, both hanging around with some hairy fish or something, and they’re on adventures! I saw them walk down stairs, Petey. _Stairs_! When can I do that, too?”

“How about we master walking before climbing?”

“Aw, do we have to? I want to climb!”

Peter laughed, as he finished off the makeshift breakfast. He glanced briefly to the screen, where he noted that the show was actually be about bananas that wore pyjamas, and he felt envious that even the simplest of things could inspire such awe in Wade. He kicked closed the fridge, while he decorated the plate with dried seaweed and some leftover sushi, and hoped Wade wouldn’t mind beans on toast. MJ assured him it was a ‘traditional’ British breakfast, but it felt strange to Peter that beans could even be considered ‘breakfast’.

“Okay, well, sit up for now,” said Peter. “I have the food ready.”

There was a whoop from Wade. He sat up and spun around, with a seeming expertise that made it seem he had been able-bodied from birth, and he looked behind him to grin beautifully over to Peter with a look of eager anticipation. Peter felt a rush from inside him, as he remembered exactly what he loved about Wade, and – as he walked across the tiled floor, tray in hand with a seashell to the side – he felt luckier than ever.

“You look beautiful,” said Peter.

“Aw, you sweet-talker!” Wade laughed. “What about before?”

“Y-You were – you were beautiful then, too.” Peter blushed and handed the tray to Wade. “I – I mean that you always look good . . . with a tail or without . . . I just – I just think you’re – er – more beautiful when you smile. Y-You’re eyes light up . . . anyway, take it.”

Wade took the tray in his callused hands, before he placed it on his lap. This seemed to fascinate him in itself, as he would raise one leg and then the other, so that he could make the tray jump in a wave to his movements. Peter moved quickly to stop the beans from sliding off the plate, before he quickly convinced Wade to keep his legs still, and – with a great deal of luck – the older man seemed to settle in nicely to his food. It felt good to see him happy.

It was enough for Peter to relax, as he collapsed into a nearby armchair, and watched while Wade dug into his food with a great deal of enthusiasm. He relied heavily on the spoon by the side of the plate, using only his hands for the toast itself, and Peter realised he probably made the right call in forgoing the fork and knife, especially when mermen used only their hands in their cuisine. It would have only have confused Wade. It only seemed to go wrong when Wade tried some of the sushi . . . the spray of rice and fish told the whole story.

Wade at once began to make retching noises. He reached for the seaweed, as he began to coat his tongue with it to block out the taste, only to pause for the briefest of moments and then spit out the seaweed in turn. Peter rubbed at his eyes in frustration; it took him a while to find the energy to climb out of his chair, as he made a mental note to explain ‘table etiquette’, and climbed to his feet to take the tray away from Wade. He walked it back to the kitchen.

“Did you at least like the beans and toast?” Peter asked.

“Yeah, it was yummy, until I got to that crap! What was that shit?”

“Seaweed and fish,” muttered Peter. “It’s what humans eat. I think they dry and salt the seaweed, while the fish is placed on vinegar rice and seasoned. It’s not something I really enjoy, but Tony and MJ both swear by the stuff. That’s really expensive.”

“People _pay_ to eat garbage? The fish isn’t even fresh! I bet it wasn’t even caught today.” Wade frowned over the back of the sofa, as Peter came back with a cloth. “At home, we catch and kill the fish right before we eat it, so it’s super fresh and healthy. The seaweed’s always just pulled, and no one puts anything on the seaweed either. Like, people put stuff on fancy food, but no one _pays_ for food, ‘cause you need food to live! You charge people to live?”

“Things . . . are different here, Wade.” Peter knelt on the floor to clean the mess. “First, if you don’t like your food then you spit it discreetly into a napkin, or – like you tell _me_ to do – just swallow anyway. Second, your body changed, and so maybe your taste has changed, too? If not, I can _get_ you fresh seaweed and fresh fish, but you just need to be patient.”

He finished collecting the seafood into a small pile, which he picked up and took over to the bin. Wade fell back and returned to watching his cartoons. Wade was once again on his back, face hidden by the sofa cushions, and kicked his legs as if riding an invisible bicycle, while Peter scratched the back of his neck nervously and leaned against the breakfast bar. It would be just as much an adjustment for himself as for Wade, which was a difficult realisation.

“Being human is _hard_ ,” whined Wade.

“It’ll get even harder when Tony learns what you did to the curtains,” muttered Peter. “You know when you complained about it being too bright this morning? Well, those two strips of material over the windows are supposed to keep the light out.”

“I was cold and you keep telling me to wear clothes.”

“Yeah, but we were going to _buy_ you clothes.” Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. “You asked for a sewing kit to ‘make some adjustments’, but at _no_ point did you say that you were going to turn the curtains into a tunic by the time I woke up. I mean . . . it’s a pretty impressive tunic, sure, but I could have bought you some materials to use.”

“Really? That’d be awesome! You know I made Cable’s bag for him?” Wade sat up to peer over the back of the sofa. “I used to be pretty good with materials! You guys seem really obsessed with this ‘money’ thing; like, we just used money for luxuries or more stuff, but you guys seem to use it for food or medicine or even a home! I made good money selling my stuff when I lost my tail, I could do it again here as well, right?”

“O-Okay, please don’t say ‘selling my stuff’, as it has connotations of –”

‘ _Huh, you guys are up early, aren’t you_?’

Tony appeared in the doorway.

He looked exhausted, despite having had plenty of time to sleep, and leaned against the doorframe with slouched back and half-lidded eyes. The vest he wore was stained with oil and grease, while one bare arm was filled with complicated equations and formula, and Peter – as he looked – realised Tony had probably gotten in enough sleep to be functional and only ‘enough’, probably waking throughout the night to get back to work.

There was a strange bruise about his wrist, which made Peter feel somewhat sorry for him, as it indicated that the night terrors were likely back. It was likely someone had to hold him down, if he hadn’t programmed his prototype suit to do just that, and he swayed on his feet like a dead man walking, which was enough to get Peter to pour a cup of coffee without even being asked. Tony threw himself down onto a stool, while Wade slinked over onto the armchair, so that he could keep the middle-aged man in his sights.

“It was about two o’clock, last I checked,” said Peter.

Peter slid the coffee over to Tony, who swallowed it with such speed that he had what May would have called an ‘asbestos mouth’. It was almost painful to watch, except that Tony didn’t seem to mind it in the least, and Peter – as he cast a careful glance over to his partner – slipped onto the stool in front of Tony to talk to him. The bright side to their seating arrangement was that it seemed to comfort Wade; he no longer had to look at Tony, but he also had the peace of mind knowing that Peter acted as a sort of barrier.

It was difficult to know how to start a conversation. Bruce was likely still asleep, while Ava and the gang were probably working their respective jobs, and he didn’t want Wade to overhear anything that was about to be said, lest it further upset him. He gave a nervous cough and covered the side of his mouth with his fist, as he turned to face Tony directly and made sure to speak quietly under his breath. He said with a whisper:

“Can we talk, Tony?”

“Last time I checked, that’s what I thought we were doing.”

“You know what I mean,” hissed Peter. “I want to say that I can understand wanting to help Jane, because it’s a noble cause and she’s a good friend to many people, but I think you owe an apology to Wade for how you treated him. I mean . . . you _kidnapped_ him, Tony!”

Tony shot Peter a look that said more than words. There was a small hint of shame behind his eyes, but – more than that – there was something closer to anger. He ran a hand through his messy hair, before he dropped it against the cup of coffee, and then turned on his stool to face Peter head on with a rather confrontational expression. It was probably unfair to ambush Tony when they were all so tired, but a childish part of him felt it justified.      

“Well, this ought to be good,” said Tony.

“You took him, Tony. You locked him up like an animal.”

“Peter, you mean the world to me, honestly.” Tony lifted his cup in mock toast. “I went through a lot with Stane, didn’t even realise where half my money was going, but I promised myself I’d make up for all of that. If I could get those samples, I could _save_ people, Peter. We were _this_ close to making up for the damage those weapons did and -!”

“- that makes up for locking Wade up?” Peter shook his head. “He was scared, Tony! He was scared that you would torture him, because that’s what Killebrew and Francis Freeman did to him! He spent the whole time _terrified_. He had nightmares last night, when he slept at all.”

“It’s been – what – five months since you met Wade? Listen, I was the one that lost my mentor after he sold weapons under _my_ name to terrorist cells. I’ve seen photographs of more dead children than I want to remember, along with statistics that make me pretty sick to my stomach, and – considering I’ve had the worst hangovers in existence – it takes a _lot_ to make me that sick, trust me. You ever see a mother cry? I have. It’s not exactly a fun day out.”

Peter bit his lip to stop from interrupting Tony. He could see how pale his mentor had become, along with the shake to his hand, and Tony – unable to sit still, as per his usual habit – was quickly on his feet and over by the coffee machine. The device was perhaps the best investment they made; Peter could still recall MJ making coffee the ‘local way’, which seemed pretty much instant coffee made in a way that tasted nothing like the real thing. Tony stood with his new steaming cup in hand, as he looked into it with a forlorn expression.

“I can’t undo what I did, but I can make the world a better place.” Tony swirled the contents of his cup, almost like it were a tumbler of whiskey. “If I can get the Iron Man suit running, I can put Rhodey and the army out of business, do what the rest of the world can’t and actually make a _difference_. It’d have been nice to have Pepper around, but I guess it’s better not mix business and pleasure . . . not a pleasure when it becomes more business, right?”

“I – I know you don’t want to talk about the break-up, but you weren’t a chore to her.” Peter looked down at his clasped hands. “I know she loved you, still does, but sometimes love just isn’t enough, Tony. You’re only just dealing with the alcoholism, while the post-traumatic stress was a lot to deal with when you were running from your problems . . .”

“Well, I’m dealing with them now. I even got myself a therapist.”

“Bruce does _not_ count as a therapist. He’s not –”

“- that kind of doctor. Yeah, yeah.”

The pout on Tony’s lips was almost adorable. It would have been almost endearing on someone just a few years young or with a modicum more maturity, but – as things stood – it just served to remind Peter of how differently Tony thought and felt. He constantly sought for a ‘solution’, which in this case was to talk to someone and to get advice from them, and yet his solution never accounted for training or temperament. He was just too shortsighted.

It was a spontaneity and quick thinking that was great where inventions were concerned, as it enabled Tony to race through hundreds of possibilities and try hundreds of different things, but in interpersonal relationships it miserably failed. He seemed to forget other people weren’t like him, genuinely confused by their lack of patience and inability to follow his thinking processes, and he often couldn’t ‘fix’ people or problems that required nothing more than a sympathetic ear. Tony didn’t understand that not everything _needed_ fixing.

“Would you have been happy in Wade’s place?”

“I’d have probably bust my way out,” admitted Tony. “Not the same, though.”

“Isn’t it?” Peter gave a long sigh. “Do you know what they did to Wade? They locked him in a tiny cell, barely enough space to move, then tortured him until he looks like he does now. It went further than that, too, because they even killed someone in his name . . . you spent how many months in a cell in Afghanistan? You saw your friend die, you even –”

“Don’t go there, Peter. I’m not blind; I can see the parallels.” Tony slammed down his cup. “I never tortured Wade. I never killed anyone. I wasn’t doing what I did to make super soldiers or weapons of mass destruction. I was just doing what I thought was right. So I’m the monster here? Fine, I’m a monster. Is that what you want to hear? _Yo, Wade_!” Tony shouted across the room full volume. “ _I’m sorry I’m such a monster_!”

Wade gave a visible flinch, before he looked across the room. He was sitting cross-legged, playing with his toes much like the cartoon teaching the ‘little piggy’ song, and he seemed genuinely confused by the random declaration of emotion. Peter raised both his hands in a gesture of surrender, hoping it would placate Wade and keep him calm, but Tony was another matter entirely, as he clenched the cup – now on the counter – with enough strength that it could easily break with the strain. Peter drew in a deep breath and continued:

“Tony, you know I’m just –”

“No, I get it. I’m worse than Stane or Francis.” Tony ran a hand over his face. “Are we done here? I feel like we’re done here. I’m going to get back to work, cure Jane’s cancer, maybe save a life . . . you just stay here watching cartoons while I work with Cable and Bruce.”

“You can’t keep hiding from your problems, Tony. You need help.”

“There’s people out there who need more than me.”

“Tony, if you could just –”

Tony waved his hand in a dismissive manner. The expression he wore was one of great pain; it reminded Peter of something Bruce once said, that the reason why Tony overworked himself was to hide from himself, and yet – as much as he wanted to understand – Peter felt as if it were something just beyond his reach. He watched Tony march over to the door, before he left quickly and bumped awkwardly into another live-in employee.

A second later, Tony was out of sight.

The employee vanished in the opposite direction, while Peter toyed with the idea of calling Bruce to check in on his mentor, but he eventually thought better about it and walked back across the room to where Wade sat upon the armchair. Wade beamed brightly as Peter slid onto his lap; he felt strong arms around him, as he buried his head into the crook of his partner’s neck, and laughed to himself as he swore to remind Wade about the shower.

There was a faint smell of sweat and seawater. Peter inhaled deeply, as he let his eyes close and simply basked in the feeling of holding his beloved close to him, and Wade – for the first time since his transformation – ceased in kicking his legs. It was enough to make him wish that they could stay that way forever, as the sun streamed in and warmed both of them where they sat, and the wind outside seemed far more gentle than usual, so that only a slight hiss could be heard and no longer the lashing against every pane of glass.

“I hope he isn’t going to get a drink,” muttered Peter.

“Cable used to say ‘heaven helps those that help themselves’,” said Wade. “Never really meant shit to me, but when I was at my worst – hurting bad, doing crazy shit – I eventually realised I was the problem. You got to see the problem to fix the problem!”

Peter laughed warmly, as he pulled back and placed a kiss to Wade’s lips. It was chaste and patient, with nothing that hinted at an expectation of anything more, and yet – when he pulled back – he could see tears in Wade’s eyes that seemed to match his own. Wade returned the gesture with another kiss, proving his love for Peter was as deep as Peter’s love for him, and it took all of Peter’s strength not to cry from how overwhelming such a love felt.

“I wish I knew how you became so wise, Wade.”

“You’re a good influence, baby boy.”

 

 


	5. Chapter Eighteen

# Chapter Eighteen

The cove felt like home.

There was the same nostalgic and familiar feeling, like having returned to somewhere safe and filled with memories, and Peter realised he would be sad to say goodbye to the place. It felt almost a relief that the weather was so pleasant for once; there was just enough of a breeze to send ripples out onto the water, but not enough to be a nuisance, and the sun that beamed down warmed his skin and brightened the cove. He relished in the moment.

Peter sat down on the sands, dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. It reminded him of the five months spent just lounging on the shore with Wade, sometimes letting himself dip into the water whenever he felt safe enough, and he felt grateful that he had taken so many photographs, so he could share those memories with those around him back home. He realised that Aunt May would be excited to know how they met, just as Peter was excited to introduce Wade to her for the first time, and leaving the cove felt almost a worthy sacrifice.

He watched as Wade slid into the waters.

The older man managed to keep his balance pretty well; he held only onto the sands of the shore, while he practised kicking his legs back and forth in a scissor motion, until he was able to let go of the shore and float without aid. It was a beautiful sight. Wade wore a smile so bright that it was as if the pain of the past never existed, and the red long-sleeved shirt complemented his mottled skin-tone pretty well. It brought him to life, while the black swim-shorts accentuated what was perhaps his second-best feature, second only to his eyes.

“You going to join me, Petey?” Wade asked.

Peter jumped back out of sheer instinct. There was no way that Wade would pull him into the waters, not without first getting consent, but a paranoid part of Peter forced him to crawl back until he was flush against the cliff with bare feet digging into the sand. Peter raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, as he felt his heart race and his body run cold, and – despite Wade there and able to protect him – he knew he would never fully trust the water.

“I – I – I don’t think so,” stammered Peter.

“Aw, why not? The water feels good!”

“You – you know I don’t like water.” Peter ran a hand through his hair. “I – I mean I like paddling a bit, maybe letting the tides wash over my legs, but it’d take a small miracle to get me to actually climb in there. You’d have to _really_ need my help.”

“That’s just stupid! You’d risk drowning to help me?”

“I’d risk everything to help you.”

Wade laughed and pushed himself back. He seemed to struggle for a moment, unsure how to move his legs in order to stay afloat, and it had been years since he last swam, even with his tail, due to the disfigurement that he suffered. There were a brief few moments of splashing, before Wade tipped backwards and fell underneath the surface. Peter yelped in fear and ran to the edge, where he looked desperately about the waters for his partner and lover.

“W-Wade? Wade!”

There was a long moment of absolute silence. Peter heard his heart pulse in his ears, while his mouth ran dry and he lost all breath, and – as he was seconds from diving into the waters after Wade – he finally saw splashes and movement. Wade soon threw himself upward, where he emerged with a laugh and the gills on his neck open from the submersion, before he quickly took to the water in a way that Peter envied, and he swam with such skill that it was almost beyond belief. It had taken him days to walk, but only minutes to swim.

“You’re – you’re okay,” whispered Peter.

“Of course I am, I have gills.” Wade pointed to his neck. “See?”

“Well – of course – I mean –!” Peter fell back and sat down. “I was just scared. I know you still have gills, but I guess a part of me just saw ‘legs’ and thought ‘drowning’. How are you swimming so well, anyway? You couldn’t even _walk_ for the first few days.”

“Eh, it’s only water. You need to balance when you walk, got to move everything in a certain order, and you can only go in one direction, too! You can be free in water . . . do summersaults, go up and down and around, and if you move wrong then you get another chance to move right. You move wrong when you walk, you fall over and it hurts! Water don’t hurt you, unless you fall from real high or something. Just got to trust it!”

“So you swim well because you trust the water? I – I guess that could explain why it took you so long to walk, when you didn’t trust your legs at all, but it’s only been five days . . . I don’t know, Wade . . . I’m sure you’ll do much better once you’re used to your legs. You’ll be running and jumping and playing in no time, you just need to trust the land.”

“How old are you, Petey? Twenty-three? You still don’t trust water!”

“Well, maybe you can teach me . . . in a pool . . . with a lifeguard.”

Wade laughed at Peter, as he dropped backwards and kicked water over to him. It soaked through Peter’s t-shirt, which left him gasping at the new sensation of cold, and he desperately tried to pull the wet material away from his bare skin. Wade continued to laugh, as he floated upon his back and simply let the water carry him to and fro, while he hummed some song about ‘adventure’ and ‘friends’ from cartoon he had grown attached to over the past few days. It was difficult not to smile, as Peter saw how happy his lover looked.

They remained in quiet for a long while, until a small splashing noise interrupted them, and Peter looked over to the rocks in the cove entrance in search of someone else. There was a brief moment of silence, before a familiar face appeared before the rocks, drenched in water and wearing a smile that seemed oddly sincere. Cable kept to some distance, although – the second Wade saw him – there came a cheer from the ex-merman and a splash from the cove.

“Nate! You came,” chirped Wade.

The way that Wade swam over made Peter jealous. It wasn’t something he would admit aloud, as he knew that the two men had a considerable history and were still good friends, but there was just something frustrating at seeing them so close and not even being able to join them, unable to swim close or to touch Wade in reassurance. Peter gave a small sigh and walked along the shore, until he was as close as he could possible reach.

Wade floated a good few feet from Cable, while he sent looks over to Peter, as if he were reassuring himself that Peter were still there, and it gave Peter some relief to know that he was still needed by his partner. He sat at the edge of the shore and let his feet dangle in the waters, until Wade swam back over and sat next to him, and – with a rather painful nudge – Wade poked him hard in the side and whispered that he had no reason to be jealous. Cable simply chuckled to himself, as he swam over to them and nodded politely to Wade.

“I would not miss our final goodbye,” said Cable.

“Funny how we traded places, right?” Wade gave a bright smile. “I know you’re not one for long goodbyes, so let’s get this over with quickly, okay? You can swim off and forget about me, like you always do, and I can go back to forgetting all about you, too.”

“Indeed? Is that right?” Cable gave a sad smile. “I cherish our friendship more than you realise, Wade, enough that it pains me how you chose land over water, but I must accept your decision and wish you the greatest of happiness in life. You are pushing me away, as you fear to leave me. Unfortunately, we all must say goodbye at some stage in our lives. All we can do is to treasure every moment with those we love, even those whose love we have betrayed.”

Cable reached into the bag by his side. It was the first time that Peter paid much attention to the details, as he had been too devastated on their last meeting to focus on anything except the vials, and – with a spark of memory – Peter fussed about in his bag near to him. He found out the black vial of techno-organic material, and held it directly in front of him before Cable even had time to look upward. The older man removed something from his bag, held tight in his hand, and looked in surprised to see the vial only a foot or so from his face.

“I – er – thought you might want it back,” admitted Peter. “It’s not as though Tony couldn’t make his own version, but why would he want to, you know? This way it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands or get accidentally used by anyone, while you could probably do with the vial back, assuming – ah – you need it for anything, I guess. Thank you for agreeing to meet with Tony, too, he says the samples are really useful. It could change the world.

“Thank you, Peter.” Cable took the vial from him. “I will continue to meet with Tony for as long as is necessary, just as I hope that his desire to improve mutant rights is a sincere one. In future, perhaps we will meet again. I look forward to news from Tony regarding your new lives in New York, and maybe – in time – you shall visit here again.”

“Aw, ain’t you the sentimental type, Priscilla,” teased Wade.

“It must come with age,” said Cable.

The older man slid the vial into his bag, before he reached out to take Wade’s left hand. It was a strange gesture, until Peter noticed that Cable opened Wade’s palm and dropped something small and shiny into it. It looked almost familiar. It took Peter a moment to realise the item for what it was: a ring. The band was gold and simple, so that it looked almost like a wedding ring, and there seemed to be some sort of inscription on the inside, written in Wade’s language, and it complemented well Gwen's ring on Wade’s pinkie finger. Cable said:

“This is for you, Wade.”

Peter clenched his hands into the sand. He tried to appear casual, but he heard his heart beat loudly and felt his teeth bite painfully into the side of his lip. There was no way that Cable missed the implications of such a gift, having spent so many years as a human, but somehow he felt it appropriate to give to Wade, and Wade – for whatever reason – slid it onto the ring finger of his right hand. Peter looked away, before he could grow too annoyed.

“Left hand’s the one for marriage, right?” Wade asked.

“Hmm,” said Peter. “Yeah.”

“That’s good, because that finger’s all yours!” Wade paused and gave a laugh. “That sounds kind of dirty, doesn’t it? You humans are always so weird, like how you brand one another with a ring, it’s kind of stupid, but – hey – it’s your tradition! If you want to go that route in future, I’m sure as heck not going to stop you. I kind of like rings.”

“It was your wedding ring, Wade,” said Cable. “It’s why I thought that you would want it back. I know that our marriage ended on bad terms, but you are still my greatest friend and my closest companion, as such it would be an honour for you to keep such a ring. I hope that you will look to it fondly and remember me well. If the left finger is a sign of the future to come, perhaps the right can be a reminder of things once passed.”

Peter glanced back with a slight frown. He felt almost as if he were intruding upon something, as Cable floated a few feet from Wade and the two men shared a look, and – as the sun shone brightly upon them – he realised just how much history existed between them, and he knew Cable would always be a part of Wade’s life in some form. There was love in Wade’s brown eyes, but nothing as romantic as what Peter saw, more . . . familial. There was a soft breeze, which caused him to shiver. Wade chuckled and whispered:

“You’re the biggest mistake I made, Nate.”

“So you tell me,” said Cable.

“Still, probably the greatest mistake I ever made.” Wade slid the band onto his right ring finger. “I ain’t going to miss the cheating, or the mental manipulation, or even you guilting me by reminding me of all my shit, but . . . I’ll still miss you, Metal Man.”

“I shall miss you, too. I sometimes with we could go back and undo the wrongs, but we have both grown so much that we are no longer them men we once knew, and we can never be what we once were. I see you with Peter and I see absolute trust; it was a trust we never had, and without trust there can be no love. You and Peter will do well together.”

Cable looked to Peter and gave a brief nod. There was an understanding there, as if a torch were being passed in some way, and Peter could see – as he looked to Cable and tried to decipher him – a man with ultimately good intentions. Still, a part of him felt grateful that he hadn’t made the choice to be a merman, as he wondered whether he would always see Cable as ‘competition’, no matter how firmly in the past he was lodged. Cable soon turned back to Wade and gave him a long look, as he smiled brightly and warmly to him.

“Farewell, Wade,” said Cable.

“Goodbye, Nathan.”

They watched as Cable dove beneath the surface; he moved with great speed and grace, until he was far enough to be out of sight, and Peter – despite himself – let out a large sigh of relief, even as he cursed himself for being so jealous. The few ripples on the surface soon vanished, as if no trace of Cable ever existed, and soon the silence began to feel uncomfortable and a little awkward. Wade simply played with his ring, which sat so nicely next to Gwen’s on the neighbouring finger, and yet his smile seemed somewhat saddened.

Peter pulled Wade close against him, as he nuzzled against his partner’s neck. The scent of seawater was heavy on Wade’s skin, while the texture was rough in its familiarity, and Peter found the sudden urge to hold him and never let go. He held Wade so tightly that he began to fear he was hurting him, so that he loosened his grip, but Wade only laughed and held tighter in turn, as if to reassure him that everything was okay. Peter gave a laugh in turn.

“I’m sorry I was so jealous,” whispered Peter.

“Nah, don’t be,” replied Wade. “Well, not as though you got a reason. I know I got a bit of a reputation, but there’s one thing that no one can deny: I’m faithful to my partners. Plus, Cable can’t compete . . . he was a selfish lover. Don’t get me wrong, he could make that organic mass rise to the occasion, and he knew enough about tongue positions to –”

“Okay, you can stop right there. Please, stop right there.”

“What I’m saying is that I like us better! You trust me and I trust you. You let me do things that Cable wouldn’t let me, like being on top and stuff, and you never make me doubt myself or manipulate me. Cable can’t compete. This ring finger is all yours!”

Peter smiled as Wade lifted his bare left hand, before he waggled his ring finger. It looked so full of potential, like a reminder of just where their lives could take them, and it was difficult not to feel a series of mixed emotions. Peter – until Wade – had never envisioned marrying anyone except Gwen, but he saw her ring on Wade’s other hand realised that she would have given them her full blessing, and Peter . . . he wanted Wade and only Wade.

“What if – what if I _did_ propose one day to you?”

“Then I’d say ‘yeah’ one day,” said Wade.

Peter gave a laugh and said:

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

 


	6. Chapter Nineteen

# Chapter Nineteen

“Are you ready?”

Peter looked warmly to Wade. The weather was quite chilly, enough so that a thin layer of snow covered every surface, and yet – despite that – Wade was wrapped up more than the temperature demanded. He hunched over with his hood thrown over his head, while his hands were buried deep in his jacket pockets. The jacket covered the hooded top pretty well, leaving only the red hood on show, and he looked down in a way that made his insecurity clear.

They stood before the front door ready to knock, and – through the clear glass – Peter could see the familiar staircase and hallway, but held back from alerting anyone to their presence until he could be certain Wade was okay. He ran a hand through his brown hair, while he gave a bright smile and reached out to his fiancé. Wade looked pale and uncertain. It took a considerable amount of coaxing to remove his hands from his pockets, and they felt cold against Peter’s and shook almost imperceptibly in his hold.

“We can do this another day, if you want,” said Peter.

He let his thumb trace the engagement ring on Wade’s left hand, while his fingers touched lightly upon Cable and Gwen’s rings, and he brought those two hands to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss to each one, before he let Wade hide them again. They stood facing each other for a short moment; Peter realised that his fiancé had a good couple of inches on him, enough that he almost felt a spark of sadness that Wade learned to walk so well, because he missed bending down to kiss him. Peter – instead – tiptoed up and kissed his cheek.

“It was a hell of a long flight and –”

“That wasn’t a flight,” muttered Wade. “It was a monstrosity.”

“Well, it was a private jet.” Peter awkwardly rubbed his neck. “You know most people would _kill_ not to be cooped up like sardines in a can? Look, it was your first flight; everyone gets nervous their first time flying in an aeroplane. It’ll be better next time, I swear.”

“You know, I’d make a joke about ‘firsts’, but I think I left my sense of humour in that metal tin-can. It’s not natural, Petey! You didn’t say _that’s_ what they were like; I used to look up and think they were big birds or something, but _nope_ -! It turns out they’re giant lightning conductors staying in the air by sheer will power alone . . . don’t even flap their wings.”

Peter felt grateful that the proposal was before take-off. The champagne had done little to calm Wade’s nerves, so that – the moment they were in the air – Peter was forced to resort to whatever distractions he could concoct, before eventually slipping a sedative into his partner’s drink in hopes that he would sleep the duration of the flight. It worked pretty well, with Wade waking up just in time for landing, only to grow panicked and anxious again on finding himself in the midst of one of the world’s busiest airports. Crowds were a no-no.

“We could take a boat instead, if we ever need to go abroad,” said Peter. “It’ll be okay, though; Ava and Sam are transferring back at the end of the month, and Luke and Danny never left New York anyway, they only ever visited England. That just leaves Bruce and Tony. I think they’ll be moving here around Christmas. We never have to leave again.”

“Yeah? What about MJ? You’ll want to visit her.”

“MJ travels all the time for her work. I can bet she’ll be in New York plenty of times, but – if not – I can talk to her online or send letters instead. I won’t leave you alone, but I won’t make you ever get back on a plane, either. You don’t ever need to fly again, I promise.”

Wade gave a bright smile, one that showed his slightly yellowed teeth. The corners of his eyes crinkled and he stood straighter, and all his former confidence came bustling back to him, so that he dove at Peter and gave him a tight hug. It was almost suffocating, as Peter was left with no response except to pat his fiancé’s back, but eventually Wade pulled away and knocked at the front door with enough strength to make the glass rattle. Peter heaved a sigh of relief, as he realised today was the first day of their new lives. He whispered, half to himself:

“When a bird and a fish fall in love, where do they build their nest?”

“In their aunt’s house apparently,” teased Wade.

Peter gave a loud laugh. He covered his mouth right away, as if he could hide the laugh after the fact, but he realised its futility and lowered his hand with a smile. It felt beyond ironic; Peter could never trust the water, while Wade could never trust the air, and both were somehow perfect for one another despite their differences. He reached into Wade’s pocket and held his hand firmly, giving a squeeze for reassurance, before he saw May in the hallway.

The older woman wiped her hands on a dishcloth, while she closed the kitchen door behind her, and there was a look of clear frustration upon her face. It was strange how she hadn’t aged a day in what was over six months since Peter left, as she was still just as beautiful as ever, and the trouser-suit she wore looked too formal for just lounging around the house. He knew she probably had work, but they had let her know days back when they would be coming home. The apron over her outfit only added to the feeling they disturbed her day.

It was then that May looked up and saw them.

The older woman dropped the dishcloth to the floor; she ran to the door with an admirable speed, before she wrenched it open and threw herself at Peter, and there were visible tears in the corners of her eyes as she laughed warmly to herself. May pulled back to place her hands upon Peter’s cheeks, before turning him back and forth, all to make sure he was still the same boy that left her, before she hit him lightly with the palm of her hand upon his shoulder. He missed how playful and expressive she acted, but he just knew Wade would love her.

“Peter, you’re early!”

“I – er – hope that’s not a problem?”

“Of course not,” chirped May. “I finished getting ready an hour ago, but I was hoping to have time to finish baking before you came. Where’s your luggage? I know, I know, your belongings are all mostly here anyway, but you _did_ take half your wardrobe with you to England, so it’d be useful to have it back. Oh, look at me! Where are my manners?” May turned to face Wade. “You must be Wade? Peter’s told me so much about you!”

“Nice to meet you, Miss May,” whispered Wade.

“Oh, well, you seem a lot more shy compared to what I heard. Still, you don’t have to worry too much around me, okay? I know about your heritage, as well as the changes that happened, and I’ll be having a few stern words with Tony Stark, let me tell you! Right, well, let’s not linger in the doorway. Come on in! This is your home, too, boys.”

May stepped aside, as she let them in and closed the door behind them. They stood in the hallway for a moment, until she ran to collect her dishcloth and signalled them into the kitchen, where they followed with a slight hint of nervousness. The kitchen was exactly how it looked back when Ben was still alive, as May never found the emotional strength to redecorate, and the table centre of the old-fashioned room still stood out as the focal point for their family. It was covered with plates of biscuits, cakes, and various pastries.

“Sheesh, Aunt May,” said Peter. “What’s left to bake?”

Wade took a seat and reached out for a cupcake. He ate it slowly, without the usual mess and difficulty, and seemed to be trying to behave his best, and – as Peter slid next to him – he saw the unbridled joy on Wade’s face at the taste of homemade baked good. They sat silently for a moment, while May laughed under her breath, as she refused to give away her secret, and soon she turned off a frying pan on the stove and rushed over with two plates.

“Wheat-cakes, of course,” said May.

“You’re the best, Aunt May!” Peter stared down in wonder. “Wade, you _have_ to try these! My aunt’s been making these since I came to live with her, but they’re definitely _the_ best things in the entire world. You won’t get any seaweed like this!”

There was a look of curiosity from Wade; the table was already laid out, all in anticipation of their arrival, and May sat opposite them with her head upon her clasped hands, as she wore the most beautiful smile in the world. Peter was already halfway through his meal, when he saw Wade tentatively take a fork and rip himself a bite. There was a visible wince on his face when he tasted them, before he schooled his expression into something almost like a smile, although it was clearly pained and forced. He gave a thumb up with his free hand.

“It’s good,” he said.

“It’s nice of you to lie,” replied May. “Don’t worry, as Peter warned me that your tastes are very different. I suppose it makes sense, as you spent a long time at sea, so to speak. I was told you’re a big fan of spices and sweets? I bought some Mexican food for you to try, in case you didn’t quite like some of my cooking. Tony said you like tacos?”

“Yeah, I love them!” Wade dropped his fork. “Can I have some?”

“Of course, but they may be a little cold.”

“Nah, I don’t mind none!”

May gave a smile, as she climbed to her feet. It took her a moment to reach the oven, where inside were some home-made tacos filled to the brim, and she removed them to place them on a plate that looked almost professionally arranged. May came over and exchanged Wade’s plate of wheat-cakes with the one filled with tacos, which the older man eyed with an eager expression. Mexican restaurants seemed pretty rare in England, outside of the major cities, but – after MJ made some from scratch one night – Wade had since been hooked.

He used his hands to dig into the pile, biting such large chunks that pieces appeared around his mouth and lips, and Peter – with a slight sigh – reached out to brush away the most offending pieces, before Wade would chomp down again. Wade moaned almost obscenely, as he ate quickly and without any complaints. He eventually stopped when he made his way through half of his first piece, before he gave a loud sigh of pleasure and said:

“You’re the best, Miss May!”

May seemed relieved at Wade’s reaction. Peter couldn’t recall her ever making Mexican food before, so this was an absolute first, and it was possible that she was simply reassured by him that everything was okay with her first attempt. There was a slight shuffling sound, as May sat down opposite them once more, before her eyes looked between them and landed upon Wade’s left hand. Peter saw her hand move to hide her mouth, as she gave a gasp.

“Is that a ring I see?”

“We – we only just got engaged,” said Peter. “I proposed on the plane, actually. I know we’ve only known each other for a short time, but when you know something is right then you just _know_ , you know? I want to make a life with Wade, but I kind of want your support in doing that . . . your blessing, really . . . p-please say you approve.”

“Six or seven months is a very short time,” admitted May. “I trust your judgement, Peter, but this is the first time that Wade and I have ever met. Why don’t we spend a few weeks getting to know one another, before I can honestly answer.”

“I – I think – I think we’ll be a great couple. We spent five months together nearly every day, and then a few weeks together in Stark Tower . . . I – I know it won’t be easy, but I think we’ve proven we’re both committed and would both give anything to be with each other. I can understand him, just like he can understand me, and life just makes _sense_ with Wade around, because Wade kind of gives my life meaning. I love him.”

“That’s wonderful, Peter, but what about the paperwork?”

Peter blinked a little in confusion. He looked to Wade, who – underneath his hood – smiled brightly with each and every bite, and it was clear his partner either wasn’t listening or equally had no idea what his aunt was hinting about. The kitchen felt a little warm, despite the cold weather, from the constant baking and cooking, and the heating had managed to build up condensation on the inside of the windows. Peter gave a nervous cough, as he looked to his aunt, and furrowed his brow as he attempted to work out the meaning of her question.

“Huh?”

“Is he even here legally?” May asked.

“Oh, right, I follow.” Peter blushed. “Well – ah – Bruce was able to get him some fake documentation, although Tony said it’s good enough to fool any government official. You’re now looking at Wade Winston Wilson from Canada, dishonourably discharged from the army, before getting into a vehicular accident that required techno-organic material to grow back his lower limbs. Now technically working as Tony’s tailor.”

“And how will you support yourselves?”

“I’m going to get a temporary job as a private tutor, but start working as a full-time science teacher come the new school term. Wade actually _can_ tailor clothes pretty amazingly, so he’s going to do odd jobs for people until he learns enough to maybe branch out alone, and I have every intention of paying you rent, until we can save enough to get our own place.”

May gave a smile in turn, as she nodded her head to them. It was difficult to gauge her expression, even as she reached for a biscuit centre of the table, almost as if to give her something to do with her hands, and she looked back again to Wade’s ring. He wished he could have introduced the two of them far before this moment, but there was no changing the past, even if it were possible in some way. The snow started to build against the windowpanes outside, so that it soon grew enough to make looking outside a chore.

“Well, at least I know you have a plan,” she said.

“We do,” said Peter. “We really want to make this work.”

He reached out to Wade, where he placed his hand upon his leg. The touch caught Wade’s attention; it was enough to make him turn and give a warm smile, and Wade – as he swallowed back a bite of food – leaned in to place a kiss upon Peter’s cheek. He blushed at the display of affection before he looked away, which made Wade laugh in itself.

“At the very least, you _are_ a cute couple,” teased May.

Peter looked to Wade with absolute warmth.

“I love him more than anything.”

 


	7. Chapter Twenty

# Chapter Twenty

Wade looked beautiful.

It was difficult for Peter to look anywhere else; the older man lounged upon the sofa, with head turned to the side and brown eyes hidden with soft lids, and the round to his stomach was quite prominent beneath his t-shirt and open jacket. The remains of the hooded-suit sat upon the coffee table in front of him, as he worked on a new design specially for himself, and – next to it – sat a small blue hat that was clearly intended for a baby.

Peter leaned against the kitchen wall and tried to ignore the mess. The apartment had been perfect for them, as they moved in not long after the wedding, and the only problem had been Wade’s disgusting tendencies to make a mess and leave said mess, so that he could effectively be called a slob. They had compromised well, until recent changes demanded that the spare room be converted into something more useful to their situation, which meant that furniture spilled over into the living room, creating one giant jumble.

“Wow, kid, how do you even live like this?”

Tony leaned back on the kitchen stool. He rested the backs of his arms upon the counter, while he looked around with clear distaste, and – while Peter usually treasured the complete honesty of his mentor – he wasn’t in a patient enough mood to deal with the judgement. Bruce sat beside him, with his back hunched and hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. The steam rose up to touch upon his face, almost as if it could provide some small comfort to him, as he simply sat and listened to his companions talking quietly between themselves.

“It’s not usually this bad,” said Peter. “It’s just while the nursery is being built.”

“You still haven’t got that done?” Tony raised his eyebrows. “Don’t you have like two weeks to go or something? Look, I know you don’t want my money, but it’s not as though I’ll even notice a few thousand, so why not just let me hire some designers and –”

“I appreciate that, Tony, I really do. It’s just . . . we – we want –”

“To do this alone? Yeah, I can get that.”

There was a snore from Wade on the sofa, as he reached down to scratch himself. It made Peter smile and shake his head; he looked down again to his husband’s stomach, where he remembered feeling their child kick for the first time, and he still felt a stab of fear that – in a matter of days – he could be a father. There were boxes scattered and piled all around the living room, filled with baby furniture and toys, while the bed and storage boxes from before were shoved into various corners until a permanent solution came about.

“How is Wade?” Bruce quietly asked.

Peter gave a sigh and moved to jump up onto a counter. He felt himself hunch like Bruce, while his hands lay loosely clasped between his open legs, and the glasses on his nose fell slightly to prove just a slight nuisance. The apartment felt impossibly warm, so that even the air-conditioning did little to touch it, and he knew that – during the pregnancy – Wade particularly suffered and struggled to remain cool. He often lost sleep due to the fact.

“He’s – he’s fine,” said Peter.

“Well, I – er – was expecting him to see me.” Bruce drew in a deep breath. “We know extremely little about mutants, even with the recent changes to the law, but we know _nothing_ about how relationships between mutants and humans work, especially in regards to their children, Peter. I – I think it’s best someone check him over.”

“He’s still terrified of doctors. I’m half-dreading the birth; I don’t think he will let anyone near him even then, but I can’t bear the idea of seeing him in pain. If he lets you near him, it’ll just cause him immense stress and can’t that affect the baby?”

“Don’t you have bigger things to worry about?” Tony interrupted. “I mean it’s great and all that you worry about him and the kid, but . . . do we even know you’re having a kid? I’m no geneticist, but don’t we have a thing called ‘dominant genes’? Like, I can picture Wade opting for a water-birth, finally getting him to Stark Tower to deliver the baby, because – let’s face it – you can’t risk a hospital, and – _plop –_ out comes a tadpole.”

Peter swallowed hard. It was a very real fear, because there was no record of a mutant and human ever having a child between them, and some even theorised such a coupling would result in miscarriage, as the genes were too incompatible. He ran his hands over his face, before he looked between his friends and searched for some form of reassurance, but Bruce looked aged with his concern and Tony – as much as he tried to hide it with a façade of indifference – looked beyond worried. Peter bit his lip before he decided to speak.

“Wade reckons the baby takes the form of the carrier,” he said.

There was a loud laugh from Tony, who stopped himself with a wave of his hand. He was clearly trying to say ‘don’t mind me’, but the reaction was enough to cause Peter to draw in a sharp breath and send him a dark look, and Bruce – seated next to Tony – sent him a look in turn that silenced Tony and caused him to try and disguise his laugh as a cough. Wade stirred from the sofa across the room, but ultimately remained asleep.

“What?” Peter asked.

“He may believe that, but it’s likely an old wives’ tale,” said Bruce. “On another note, the idea you could have a daughter may be true, as mermen and mermaids _are_ the same species, so gender variations do run in his species, but I doubt your human genes will make a difference. I would hazard a guess a son will be certain, based off same-sex couplings in his society producing children of that same-sex. The legend of sirens stems from merman and mermaids, which leads me to believe _some_ mutant-human couplings took place . . .

“We’re going to ask Cable for information. If we assume some mermaids lured sailors successfully, it means that they could have the records that we lack. If the children were always mermaids themselves, it _could_ explain where the old wives’ tale began, because the dominant mutant gene would mean the child always took the form of the ‘bearer’, but that’s just speculation. Let’s just remember Wade’s DNA is essentially ‘merman’ still.”

“It would have helped our research, if Wade told us sooner,” muttered Tony.

“Well, what do you expect me to do about that?” Peter replied in a cold voice. “He didn’t even tell _me_ that he was pregnant. I was told he was gaining weight, despite the fact he exercises like crazy to keep up his muscles, and he passed off all other symptoms as ‘acclimatising’ to our society. I only found out _last_ _week_ he’s carrying our child!”

“It makes sense, Tony,” added Bruce. “You have to remember that Wade suffered a miscarriage a long time ago, and that kind of fear lingers with a person. Still, I will admit that it’s extremely inconvenient to have waited this long, but . . . well . . . it’s natural.”

“If I’m honest, I think he would have waited until the birth, if possible.”

“Well, there’s no sense worrying about what could have been.”

“We need to worry about now and the future, instead.”

Peter shared a look with Bruce. The older man had spent a lifetime wanting a child, but – for a variety of circumstances – he had never been able to have one, and he could see Bruce casting longing glances over to the cot yet to be built. If anyone knew the pain of losing a potential child, it was certainly Bruce. He wouldn’t judge Wade for keeping such a thing secret, because to Wade it was a secret worth being kept . . . if he never said the words aloud, it was as if it wasn’t real. He couldn’t lose something that didn’t ‘exist’.

Wade gave a murmur from the sofa.

It was enough to cause Peter to jump to his feet, as he wandered over to his husband. There was a strange smile on Wade’s face, as he muttered to himself in his sleep, and he had sprawled out in a way that his limbs were at awkward angles. One leg hung over the arm of the sofa, one dangled off the side, and his arms were slung over his head, so that his back arched and his belly looked more rounded and prominent. Peter pressed a hand against the bump, where the baby gave a soft kick, and then reached for a blanket.

He draped the blanket over Wade, before he tucked the older man in with gentle movements, and he pressed a chaste kiss to Wade’s forehead with a lingering touch. It took all her effort to silently head back over to Tony and Bruce, where he sat opposite them with a smile, unable to shake the thoughts that he would soon have a family to call his own. Peter looked between the two men and blushed slightly with embarrassment, as he asked:

“Do you think we’ll be good parents?”

Bruce smiled and looked down into his mug of coffee, as he gave a small pause before responding to the question. The expression he wore was sincere, although it pulled at the lines of his face and aged him a considerable amount, and Peter – as he realised just how young he must have seemed to these two men – noted that he respected their opinion more than anyone else. A part of him dreaded hearing that they had no faith in him, because if _they_ had no faith then _no one_ would have faith.

“You’ll be the best,” said Bruce.

“Is one of you going to be the ‘adoptive’ parent?” Tony asked. “Like, I can see you being ‘Super-Dad’ and all, but you can’t _both_ be on the birth certificate. If that kid gets labelled as a ‘mutant’, it’ll be open to all sorts of discrimination and dangers. I’m guessing you’ll want Wade as the official father, being that he birthed the brat and all?”

“I – I hear there’s a school,” continued Bruce. “Er, for mutants. I think they only take teenagers, while it’s pretty hush-hush, but they pass themselves off as a school for gifted children, so – if the child takes after Wade – the child could attend and –”

“Ah, I get it. No one would mind that he’d have two dads.”

Peter gave Tony a sharp look, while Tony muttered back: ‘you know what I mean’. There were so many possibilities for his child, as well as so much to consider, but Wade’s fears had left them with less than a week or so to work through every single issue. Peter still struggled to get used to the idea of being a parent, which came with worries all of its own, and yet there was also the child’s biology to consider, as well as how best to register the birth. He dreaded to think how he would even explain _being_ a mutant when the child grew up.

“I’m not sending my kid to a boarding school,” muttered Peter.

“Why not? You could get a job there,” replied Tony. “You wanted to work as a science teacher again, right? Your kid could grow up around other mutants, learn about its heritage, and be protected by the label ‘gifted’. No one would guess it’d be part mermaid.”

“They aren’t even born yet. Can we _not_ plan their entire life? Look, I’ll discuss it with Wade once he wakes up, but I can’t see him wanting to move again in a hurry. Maybe in a few years, I’ll consider it properly. I – I just don’t know whether I can be a good parent to them, you know? My parents left me when I was young, then my uncle died when I was a teenager, and I know I can never be anywhere near as great as my aunt, so it’s –”

‘ _You’ll be fine, baby boy. Shut up_!’

Peter looked over the sofa to Wade, who sat up and rubbed his eyes with his fists, in a way so childlike that it was almost endearing to watch. There was some drool on his chin, along with creases on his cheek from having leant on the cushion, and he seemed to struggle to adjust his eyes to the room around him. The swell to his belly gave him a life and radiance that forced Peter to smile, as he felt an absolute sense of love and belonging on seeing his partner so happy in turn. Tony gave a laugh and slapped his leg.

“Well, straight from the fish’s mouth, am I right?”

Bruce smiled and shook his head, as he said:

“I have a feeling you’ll be fine.”

 

 


	8. Epilogue

# Epilogue

“Papa! Papa!”

The little boy ran straight at Peter. It took quick reflexes to reach down and scoop him up; Peter rested his son upon his hip, while he hugged him tightly against him, and rested his head against the familiar brown locks of hair. There was a scent like soap and cologne, which meant the little bundle of hyperactivity had probably gotten into the bathroom cabinets, and Peter – with a heavy sigh of relief – felt grateful they moved anything dangerous to the top shelves. Benjamin was just too curious. He seemed to ‘explore’ everywhere.

Peter struggled to close and lock the apartment door with one hand, while his son squirmed and fidgeted in his hold, and – before he could even put Benjamin down – the boy had managed to jump from his arms and run over to the sofa. There was a large black-and-red patched blanket over the cushions, with bowls of popcorn on the low coffee table, and the television seemed to play some old film about a mermaid that could walk on land.

“Are you enjoying the movie, son?”

“Shush,” ordered Benjamin. “This is the best part!”

“I guess I should feel lucky to even get a hug and a hello, huh?” Peter teased, as he removed his coat and placed his briefcase to the side. “I remember when you used to be cute; I’d rock you to sleep in my arms, sing you lullabies that my aunt sang to me –”

“Papa, please. I’ve not seen this before! It’s good.”

“Okay. Okay. I can take a hint.”

The little boy sat in just a t-shirt and shorts, with his metallic legs dangling over the cushions, still quite far away from being able to touch the floor, and – despite being quite aware for a six-year-old – he didn’t appear self-conscious in the least. He had eyes as bright and brown as Wade’s, along with his other father’s facial features, but his body was slight in a manner much like Peter’s, which would likely be a source of some teasing in his teenage years. Peter never spent much time around children, but he always felt so grateful for his son.

He was simply . . . perfect. Benjamin had Peter’s intelligence, always completing his homework to perfection and enjoying their outings to the museums, and he also had Wade’s creative nature and flare for fitness, taking to swimming lessons like – well – a fish to water, although that was likely helped by the gills hidden on his neck. The only flaws seemed to be his anti-social nature and often the strong air of arrogance, unusual for a child.

Peter walked behind the sofa, where he bent down and placed a kiss to his son’s unruly hair, and made his way over to the bedroom door just right of the television set. He slipped inside with quiet and slow movements, as he half-suspected his husband to be fast asleep, and he was not the least bit surprised to see Wade sprawled out across the king-sized bed with macaroni pieces glued to his face, along with a moustache drawn in marker and glitter painted across his bald head. Peter wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be annoyed.

“You’re way too soft on him,” said Peter.

Wade gave a moan of exhaustion, as Peter sat down beside him on the bed. He began to pick off the macaroni pieces one by one, as he placed them on a small pile beside the art materials and newspaper on the floor beside him, and he knew he would need to have words with their son, mainly about respect. Wade eventually noticed Peter’s actions. The older man opened his eyes with fluttering lashes and a slow moan, before brown eyes were displayed and he sat up slowly and with awkward movements. He glared darkly to Peter.

“He got me again, didn’t he?” Wade asked.

“Yeah, looks like it,” said Peter. “You know he gets bored with art and crafts, so you only have yourself to blame for falling asleep when he has access to glue. Anyway, you probably want to wipe the ink and glitter from your face before May gets here . . . least we know he gets your creative streak, right? The red really complements the black.”

“Bite me, Web-Head.” Wade yawned and stretched. “You know he keeps asking me when he can go see the mermaids? I’m hoping you got that cruise thing all planned, because it’d be good to get him back home. He’d like visiting my hometown! I’m certain!”

“Look, I don’t mind taking him to the cove, but can that be it?”

“Why? You think Cable’s going to steal us away?”

There was a waggle to Wade’s eyebrows, as he jumped to his feet with a smile. Peter blushed and reached out for a pillow, before he struck at Wade’s body, and Wade – as he laughed and ran to the _en suite_ – simply ignored Peter’s childish gesture. Peter smiled after his husband; he slipped the pillow back onto the bed, as he followed Wade over to the bathroom, where he rubbed furiously at his face and head to get rid of the mess left there. It nearly left Peter tempted to take a picture, but he had a feeling there would be more chances in future.

“I’m just scared to let you out of my sight,” admitted Peter.

He slid behind Wade and squeezed his shoulders. The older man gave a soft chuckle, as he leaned over the sink and continued to clean himself from the mess, and Peter – with a soft nuzzle of Wade’s neck – wrapped his arms around his husband’s waist and held tight to him. Wade felt warm against him; the _en suite_ was filled to the brim with various toiletries and knick-knacks, while Wade hummed a strange song to himself, and Peter gave a warm smile.

“I’ll never leave you, baby boy,” said Wade.

“I know that logically,” replied Peter. “It’s just that I can’t follow you there; I swore I would always protect you and Benjamin, giving my life if I needed to, and yet you’d be under the water and out of my reach. If anything went wrong, I wouldn’t even know about it. I don’t mind if you really have to visit the village itself, but . . . leave Benjamin with me?”

“You’re such a worrywart!” Wade poked him with a wet finger. “Okay, fine, but he’s meeting Cable and he’s going to the cove. I want him to know where he came from, because I ain’t ashamed of being a mutant and he ain’t going to be ashamed either.”

“Oh, I’m not ashamed! I’m really not! I’m just –”

“Scared, I know,” teased Wade.

Wade leaned his head back upon Peter’s shoulder, before he turned and initiated a kiss. It was soft and romantic, with the feeling of dry lips a familiar comfort, and Peter tasted the butter from the popcorn on Wade’s tongue. He held tighter to Wade’s waist, before letting one hand trail further upward towards his chest, and allowed the other to go lower to the hem of his husband’s pyjama bottoms. They were prevented from going any further by the sound of retching at the doorway. Peter yelped in horror and pulled away with great speed.

‘ _Ew, that’s gross_ ,’ said a voice.

Peter held a hand over his mouth, as he looked down. He saw his son holding an empty bowl of popcorn, which – if Peter remembered correctly – had been at least half-full on his return home, and he made a mental note to get Wade to serve healthy food. Wade gave a loud laugh from beside them, as he tied off his pyjama bottoms and sifted through the laundry basket for a semi-clean t-shirt to cover his bare chest. He gave a wink over to Benjamin and said:

“How’d you think _you_ got here?”

“Fish lay eggs,” said Benjamin. “I’m going with hatched from an egg.”

Peter nudged Wade in his side, before he knelt down and hugged his son. The bowl between them dug into his stomach a little, which made it quite uncomfortable, but to move the bowl would be to break the hold, which is a thought he couldn’t abide. They remained that way for a long while, until Peter breathed deep and placed a kiss to his forehead, as he then patted his back and ushered him into the bedroom. Wade followed them with a yawn.

“Is your film finished?” Peter asked.

“Yeah.” Benjamin pouted. “I’m sad it finished.”

“Why don’t we watch it again as a family?” Peter kissed his forehead. “I can bake some extra popcorn, and we can all cuddle up on the sofa underneath your new blanket. Aunt May is stopping by later, so she can join us, too, and we can make cookies afterward. If you’re lucky, we can even ask Aunt May to make wheat-cakes for dinner.”

Benjamin jumped on his feet, as he asked: “Really?”

“Really, really! Let’s get going.”

Benjamin gave a loud cheer. He ran through the bedroom and straight into the living room, where there was a clear sound of someone jumping on the sofa, along with what might have been a board breaking beneath the cushions. Wade took Peter’s hand in his, which he squeezed with great affection, and placed another kiss to Peter’s lips, which almost led to something deeper, until they heard a cry from the living room for their attention. They pulled apart from a loud laugh shared between them, before they headed into the living room.

Peter had never felt happier.


End file.
